LUCY
Walthorq.
The name knocks the breath from my lungs.
The Walthorqs.
That is the surname of the High Royal family—the bloodline that currently holds the mantle of rulership over the four wolf nations that comprise the Dominion of Lykara. The seat of the Supreme Alpha King himself.
Tavric Walthorq.
How in the name of the Goddess hadn't I made the connection? I've spent my life trailing after my father or Doyle to summits and treaties after all.
I bite my lip, lost in thought. But… in all those movements, I had never laid eyes on Tavric. It explains my blindness; the only son ever presented was the "true" heir, Caspian Walthorq—an arrogant fellow so full of himself that he likely can't see past the shine on his own polished shoes.
Which meant Tavric was that son. The bastard. The result of a drunken night between Supreme King Alistair and a palace maid—a woman who had been sent to the gallows under the suspicion that she'd premeditated the encounter to trap the King.
